Compelled to espionage, swept into Lord Wysse’s dark river of desire, Lady Elinor decides her future
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At Hampton Court Palace, Lady Elinor Thewesbury is caught in the currents of Lord Eric Wysse’s dark desires when he recruits her to spy on King Henry VIII’s courtiers. Amid bacchanal, bondage and female menage a trois, Elinor uncovers how information concerning the dissolution of English monasteries is being secretly passed to the Duchess of Heresford. Menace follows Lady Elinor in the person of Lord William Roxley as she secures the necessary proof. Also uncovered is Elinor’s predilection for domination by the attractive, sensual Lord Wysse. Each searing encounter increases their craving for each other, but the assignment must take precedence. Once the evidence is in hand, Lord Wysse takes Elinor further into the depths of domination and submission sealing their future…
Published by Siren Bookstrand
EXCERPT
“My Lady, Sir Wysse will see you now,” John indicated the dark doorway between the rushlights with a sweep of his hand and a bow.
“Thank you, John.” Gathering her skirts, Elinor swept through the doorway, expecting John to follow. Instead, the door thudded closed.
In the antechamber, a small fire in the grate did little to dispel the darkness. The room smelled faintly of damp stone and wine. Thick walls absorbed all sound. Fresh rushes covered the floor, a sign that Master Wysse was held in some favor. Ignoring the straight-backed chair on offer, Elinor stood.
“Lady Elinor.” His voice, a rich baritone touched with the faintest of Welsh music, flowed to her ear. Striding forward, he took her hand and brushed his lips against her skin.
“My Lord.” Her automatic reply came just within the bounds of propriety.
How had she missed this man at court? Eyes the color of raw emeralds were the focus of his rugged face. His full lips were sternly set, belying the potential for sensuality. Dark brown hair was carelessly caught back. His open shirt collar revealed a strong neck with curls of hair peeking… Elinor swiftly raised her eyes, unable to control a rising blush. His broad shoulders were level with her chin. She had noted the waistcoat that hugged the contours of Lord Wysse’s torso, flared across his chest and fit snug over a trim waist and flat stomach. His muscular legs were encased in breeches instead of the more fashionable hose.
Still holding Elinor’s hand, he must have felt her skin grow warm. “Please sit. I apologize for the lateness of the hour. My explanation should provide justification.”
His eyes roamed over her form, lingering on her décolletage. It was a warm caress, intensifying the pounding of Elinor’s pulse. He did not sound as if he much cared whether or not he was forgiven.
“You provided important information about the York uprising. Queen Jane’s support…”
“How do you know of that?” Elinor’s query was quick and sharp.
“It is my business to know.” He paused then continued on an intense note, “Elinor, I have watched you since that time. You intrigue me. I want you in my life.”
“Lord Wysse, you flatter me. But why have you not approached me before?”
Wysse dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. “Because you worked for Cromwell. And he would not have appreciated my distracting a valuable asset.”
“So you put your duty to Cromwell and the King before all.”
He met her gaze. “Yes.”